اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Twas a dream of a God,
And the mould of his hand,
That you shook 'neath his Stroke,
That you trembled and broke.
To this beautiful land.
Here He loosed from His hold,
A brown tumult of wings,
Till the wind on the sea,
Bore the strange melody.
Of an island that sings.
He made you all fear,
You in purple and gold,
You in silver and green,
Till no eye that has seen,
Without love can behold.
I have left you behind,
In the path of the past,
With the white breath of flowers,
With the best of God's hours,
I have left you at last.
